


detours

by murakumo (orphan_account)



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, beta ronpa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 21:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1794514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/murakumo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>still trying to look for a place in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	detours

the city is an empire, and it stands faultless and bold with its skyscrapers and high-rises as the fuming clouds rival their heights, obliterating the stars. here they sit, on a motel's rooftop and looking for a place in the world. hinata is beside komaeda, a lit cigarette between parched lips, and seems to look more like a stranger minute by minute. the sunrise flits on hinata's face as he breathes smoke, and they stay silent like this for as long as his cigarette can stay lit.

- 

april is a requiem for their lost change, their shared last cigarette and fucked-up lives. it rains on komaeda's birthday, on the 28th, and they sit on a porch swing outside komaeda's house. they talk about komaeda's mother as a desperate measure. hinata does his best to string flattery to every word he says like his life depended on it, and eventually komaeda tells him to stop because he's just being  _too_  funny. they leave things like that as they rock the swing back and forth, komaeda's head sunken on hinata's shoulder, and sleep takes them away hand in hand.

may passes by like its midsummer breezes, and june ruffles the grass they sprawl on. they're facing the rose-washed cityscape, flickering and bustling with life and traffic and LED screens. hinata takes a long, heavy drag of his cigarette and the smoke hits komaeda in the face by accident. hinata panics, throws his cigarette out immediately and leans down to check if he's alright, and _―_

―they tumble down the hilltop and roll all over a rack of leaves, and it's like a cliche scene out of a cliche manga or something. komaeda's eyes are wide and dilated and hinata's just on top of him, blushing, stuttering _, oh shit. i'm. i'm so sorry i. i'm fucking._

 _it's alright,_ komaeda says. why's he acting like a cliche shoujo heroine, goddamit?  _it's... it's my fault anyway. i'm _―__

before he can continue, an old man is shouting at them about messing up the work he's done to rack all the leaves up. they run away together and promise that they wouldn't talk about this _ever_.

-

the cherry blossoms in july fall and dance and bloom, and they sit on a bridge to watch the dusky red light smother under the petals fallen in the dark. hinata stares at komaeda for a long time and thinks how can he possibly sit here and watch something so beautiful, so lovely _―_  wither.

-

things get fucked up in august. they bicker, and hinata leaves marks all over komaeda. blemishes and blood mark his pretty skin and hinata watches komaeda go undone at every filthy promise he hisses in his ear.  _you're mine_ , he huffs angrily, and he doesn't know why he's so furious, but it drags a moan out of komaeda's mouth.  _nobody will ever see you like this except me. you belong to me._

a paperweight crushes hinata's throat at the instant he says those words, but komaeda shakes him, begs him, to continue. hinata forgets his anger and gets komaeda what he wants.

that night, hinata lies in bed, in fear or trepidation or something. komaeda hasn't said anything. the white ceiling has sickle-edged eyes and he shuts his eyes close. it's raining outside. pitter-patter on the windowsill.

-

november is a film overexposed; and in its last weeks they blur out every moment but focus on the sweetness. their directions are untraced and they detour every sunset on a rooftop, little talks desultory and telltale glances always finding its way to mash their lips together. and although it's not close to the silver screen ones, it robs komaeda's breath away and hinata reels in to demand for  _more_ ,  _is that all you've got?_ and  _damn_ do things get just heated up right there.

there is no christmas for them, no gifts under the pine tree, under their beds, on their nonexistent chimney in december. hinata finds komaeda on a motel's rooftop on christmas eve, cigarette stubs littered all over. he has bloodshot eyes and the smoke he breathes out scents of bitterness. hinata can't make out what komaeda says through his tears and eventually, hinata softly asks him to shut the fuck up, because he's going to kiss his tears away until they stop. 

-

january is about the little things; cloying nothings mumbled between yawns and sleep-mussed hair, street-side musicals playing across a sea of lovely faces and flowers, and the first time komaeda sees hinata smile. it's not one of his complacent smirks, but it's the kind of smile that reaches his eyes, the one that sparks a light of hope. it gives komaeda the butterflies, seeing him like that, and he smiles, too.

everything is beautiful in february. the sun isn't too bright, and the people who are fucking with them have failed their finals and has to clean the faculty room for a month. but more than that, hinata has realized so many things. like how komaeda looks so lovely when the sun lit his face up. how he's ticklish, and likes telling ghost stories for fun. they're silly, hinata knows, but it's what makes him komaeda. it's all he ever wants. komaeda is all that he wants.

-

the city is an empire, and it stands faultless and bold with its skyscrapers and high-rises as the fuming clouds rival their heights, obliterating the stars. here they sit again, on a motel's rooftop, and still trying to find their places in the fucking world. it's sundown.  _you know what?_  hinata decides, crushing the stub of his cigarette.  _fuck this. i don't care if it's going to be like this for a long time. let's just― let's just run away together, you know?_

there's a long pause before komaeda decides too.  _we can't_ , komaeda says.  _i'm not good for you. you... there's somebody else better than me, who's not wretched like me, not pathetic, and they're going to give you all that you should've received _―__

 _no,_ hinata argues.  _we_ can.  _we can be like this. komaeda, i've been fucking in love with you for more than a year, and you've given me more than enough of what i wished for. i'm not taking any shit from you if you don't tell me you do too._

komaeda looks at him in the eye, like he's in disbelief. and eventually, the words are soft, pure and sweet, when they come out.  _i do love you too, hinata-kun._ _but we don't have to run away. i'll stay here with you._ _  
_

and for them, it's more than enough for a place in the world. they've found what they were looking for.


End file.
